


The Santa Problem

by AirplaneFoodBlackMarket



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, Please excuse my meager attempt at comedy, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirplaneFoodBlackMarket/pseuds/AirplaneFoodBlackMarket
Summary: It's Christmas time for Harry, Hermione and their two children, and that means Santa Claus is close to making his yearly visit! Or is he? James seems to think so, that's what all the kids at his primary school are saying, anyway. Harry is confused. He's never taught his children any of these stories. So what could go wrong if he tries to set the record straight?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 52
Collections: Harmony Advent Collection 2019





	The Santa Problem

**Author's Note:**

> This was created as a submission to Harmony&Co's 2019 Advent celebration.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

“Daddy, is Santa Claus a wizard?”

Harry James Potter—the boy who lived, savior of the Wizarding World, Head Auror, and father of two—looked up from his porridge toward his eldest. Brow furrowed, green eyes beset with confusion, spoon dangling limply from his mouth, he momentarily forgot he had been halfway through the act of swallowing and he choked. “What…? Who?” he sputtered in between ratcheting coughs, flecks of porridge dotting the countertop.

“ _Santa!_ ” James, all of eight, rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively at his struggling father, causing Harry to wonder briefly where he learned the gesture. It reminded him very strongly of the boy’s mother. “Come _On_ , dad! Santa! You know, everyone at school’s talking about him. Isn’t he a wizard? He has to be, right?”

Harry paused, finally recovering from his most recent near-death experience, and swallowed his porridge. “Why do you say that?”

James shrugged. “It just makes sense! _Nobody_ has flying reindeer or a flying sleigh. But if he’s a wizard he could just enchant the reindeer and the sleigh! And no one could carry enough presents for all the kids in the world, but if he’s a wizard he could use a magic bag like Mommy’s purse!”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “What made you think of this, buddy?”

James threw his hands dramatically into the air. “It’s all the other kids at school will talk about! Santa this, Christmas that! Santa’s coming to my house next week! He’s bringing everyone presents! But it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Does it, now?” Harry glanced at the clock, mentally wishing his days at the Ministry didn’t start so much later than Hermione’s, so it might be her having this conversation before taking the kids to school instead of him. “Did you finish your breakfast? It’s almost time for school.”

“Daaaaaad…” James whined, “don’t change the subject! It doesn’t make any sense unless he’s a wizard! Otherwise he couldn’t fly or carry all the presents! And he couldn’t fly fast enough to visit everyone’s houses! A wizard could just apparate or maybe use a Time Turner! Like in Mom’s stories!” The little boy flashed him a triumphant grin. “That’s why none of my friends have ever met him, because they don’t know about magic and haven’t met any wizards! He’d have to keep himself hidden!”

Harry stood, taking his now cold and forgotten porridge to the sink. Once there, he dropped the dishes in and stared out the window, his back facing towards his son, and grimaced. He wasn’t prepared for this conversation. “That’s a pretty good guess, buddy. You’d better make sure not to tell any of your friends though.”

“I’m not _stupid_ , dad! I know it’s a secret! That’s why he stays up at the north pole, right? Does he have a magic heated house up there? Is his factory run by magic? Have you met him?”

Harry sighed. “You’d better get ready for school, buddy. Go ahead and grab your coat.”

“But _Daaad_! Lily’s not even downstairs yet! And you’re not answering my questions!”

Harry rubbed his face, slowly allowing his hand to drag across his cheek and down his chin. “Tell you what. I’ll go upstairs and grab your sister. You go get your coat and I’ll answer your questions on the way to school.”

James paused, then seemed to nod, and jumped up from the kitchen table, his own breakfast forgotten. “You have to tell me if you’ve ever met him, and you have to tell me why _we_ never get Christmas presents from Santa!” He shouted over his shoulder as he dashed around the corner and ran for the front hall closet.

Harry shook his head, grimacing again. “Uh, I think he only gives presents to muggle children, it’d be too obvious to fellow wizards.”

His son’s voice emanated from far off in the house, now. “Maybe instead of coming down the chimney, he uses the Floo! Muggles just _think_ he comes down the chimney! It all fits!”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

“You told him _what_?”

“I know… I know, it’s bad, and I’m sorry, but I panicked.”

Hermione stared at him, incredulous. “Panicked? How could you panic at such a simple question? We agreed we weren’t going to lie to our kids, no matter what cultural pressures there were! We weren’t going to lie to our kids about there being a Santa Claus, or an Easter Bunny, or whatever. Those aren’t even really a thing in the wizarding world! It was supposed to be so easy!”

Harry sighed. “I know, and I agreed, and that’s why we never taught them the stories, but in the moment I didn’t know what to say?”

She shook her head. “You didn’t know what to say? How hard is it to say, ‘Sorry, Sport. The kids at your school are wrong. Santa doesn’t exist. He’s just a fairytale.”

“Sport? Who am I now, Jay Gatsby?”

Hermione waved her hand at him, leaning back in their bed as she did so. She looked so much like James from that morning that harry had to suppress a bark of laughter. “You know what I mean. It’s just dismissing the question. Not entertaining the notion.”

Harry flopped back onto his side of the bed, next to her. “Sure, it _seems_ easy, but you know how little filter he has. I don’t want to be the parent who has to answer the phone with his Primary School on the other end and have to explain why your son blurted to a classroom full of Year Fours that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.”

“ _My_ son?”

Harry grinned, fully anticipating the flying pillow that magically shot itself at him from beneath his wife’s head. He dodged it admirably, and continued unabated. “I’d have to say ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Ma’am. It’s just that we’re all secretly magical wizards who have no time for such frivolous nonsense and fairytales, so I told him the whole thing was utterly ridiculous. I didn’t realize he would blab to all his friends.’”

Between ensuring the perfect intonation for his mocking voice and delivering the hand gestures that went along with it, Harry didn’t have enough focus to dodge the second pillow, which struck him just under the chin. Glasses knocked askew, he descended into peals of laughter. He glanced up to see his wife looking back down at him, her face a glorious mixture of consternation and a badly-suppressed smile.

“Come on, Harry. This is serious.”

He needed a few moments to calm down. “I know… I know,” he wheezed, “But you have to admit, you wouldn’t want to be on that phone call, either.”

Hermione sighed. “You might say that we just never taught them those stories… that we were, I don’t know, Jewish or something. Or maybe just the kind of parents who don’t want to lie to their kids as a means of fomenting holiday cheer.”

“Kind of harsh words for their school administrator. I thought you liked her.”

Hermione nodded. “I do. And of course that’s not the ideal situation.”

“As I recall, it wasn’t _my_ idea to send them to muggle primary school to get them acquainted with that side of their heritage.”

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me! You and I both agreed the best thing for them would be to grow up knowing as much about the non-magical world as possible, to keep them grounded!” She sighed when she saw the light in her husband’s eyes. “I know you’re messing with me. But the best thing would have been to get him to promise not to say anything at all to his schoolmates.”

“And I believe I did quite well on that front!” Harry put a hand to his chest, mock offended. “It was a stroke of genius, tying Santa Claus to the Statute of Secrecy. He’ll never break that bragging to his friends.”

Hermione groaned. “From the way you told it, he basically led you to it. Does he really believe that Santa Claus is a wizard, now?”

“I guess so?” Harry shrugged, “He even asked me if I’ve met him.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I don’t know. I’ve never met him. He likes his privacy.”

She shook her head again. “I don’t know how you can call him _my_ son. With that kind of overactive imagination, he’s clearly your child.”

“I disagree.” Harry laughed, “you should’ve heard some of his arguments. He thought the bag of presents might be like your expanding handbag, he said Santa Claus just _must_ be using the Floo Network, he even brought up your old Time Turner from the stories we’ve told him. He’s clearly got all of your brains.”

“Did you think to mention that muggles’ fireplaces would have to be connected to the Floo Network to be used like that?”

“Pffft. Details. He doesn’t need to understand the intricacies of how the network works.”

“Need I remind you that the problem at hand is still that our son now thinks Santa Claus really exists, and you didn’t consult me?”

Harry nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry. There was really no time. I had to improvise.”

“I wish I could’ve been there.”

“Hey,” Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault you have to be away at the Ministry so early in the morning. That legislation isn’t going to write itself. And Godric knows the wizarding world needs you doing what you do. This is a part of parenting I’m more than happy to handle, and besides, the kids love that you’re able to pick them up right after school, instead of some glorified daycare service.”

“Yeah. It’s just… hard, missing some of these things.”

“And besides, what would you have said any different, were you the one put on the spot like that?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed once more. “I guess I would’ve tried to explain it to him logically, in a way that he would know not to repeat.”

“Still, would you want to take the chance that he’d tell all his classmates what you’d just said? The chance that he’d tell _Marjorie’s_ kids?”

Hermione winced at the mention of the best, and probably only, friend she’d made of the fellow parents at their chosen muggle primary school. She glanced down at her feet. “Maybe… no.” She said finally.

“That’s what I thought.” Harry squeezed her hand again, just a little tighter. “I think I made out well overall. He’ll figure things out eventually on his own. Isn’t that one of the benefits of teaching kids all these stories, anyway? Eventually they figure out it’s all not really possible. Kids need to learn how to think for themselves and question what they’re taught.”

Hermione shot him a withering glance from under furrowed brows. “Don’t you go trying to make a positive spin for this. You’re not getting out of trouble that easily.”

“Hey!” Harry laughed, pulling her hand up against his chest and leaning over to her, pressing his lips up against her neck. He could’ve sworn her grunts of protest were mostly feigned. “You have to admit, that’s a pretty bright kid we made.”

“Oh, _honestly_. Stop it!” The barely-suppressed giggle was plainly evident behind her voice.

“In fact…” He kissed her again, and she didn’t even move from his touch this time. “I’d say we’ve gone two for two in that department. We’re so good at this we should be trying for a third. No need to hang up our cleats yet.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Hermione giggled, barely even deigning to brush aside his wandering hands. “And ‘cleats’? Since when is that your go-to metaphor?”

He shrugged, a motion she could feel against the nape of her neck. “Ron’s been on a football kick as of late. I think dealing with the newborn triplets and Luna still being on bed rest has him parked in front of the telly a lot, and they don’t broadcast many Quidditch games.” His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her up against his side, his head moving to kiss against her chin. “Speaking of which, Ron can’t be allowed to have more kids than me. We have to catch up with them.”

She laughed. “I repeat: You’re incorrigible.”

“I know. But you love me.”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

“Thank you for doing this, Hermione, truly. It really means the world to me.”

Hermione Granger glanced through the swirling little tendrils of mist dancing their way upward from the surface of her coffee, and peered into the eyes of her companion; they were brimming with relief. “It’s no trouble, Marjorie. You know your kids are welcome in our home anytime, no questions asked.”

The other woman nodded. “Still, it seems like such a huge ask to watch them overnight, especially this time of year, and especially on Christmas Eve. I truly don’t know where else I would turn if you couldn’t.”

Hermione took a sip of her drink, paused, and set the cup down gently. “Jacob and Emily will feel right at home in our house, and I’m sure Jamie and Lily would love to have them over. I just hope they won’t miss you too much during the night. Being a single mother is hard enough, but to be called into work over Christmas Eve? What are they thinking?”

Marjorie shrugged. “The hospital needs doctors on the premises every night, and Christmas is one of the busiest times for the A&E. This year was just my turn. People don’t stop injuring themselves or getting ill just for the holidays.”

“Well, still. They could’ve given you _some_ advance notice. At least enough to send them to their father’s for the holiday.”

Marjorie almost barked with laughter, but immediately caught herself, preventing any utterance from disturbing the hustle and bustle of their favorite café. “Send my kids over to him? For Christmas in America? When he makes no effort to see them any other time of the year?”

Hermione sighed. “I know. It was a stupid suggestion. I just hope they won’t be disappointed in having to see us instead of family.”

“Honestly? I’d much rather have them with you. I can dash right over as soon as my shift is up and see them first thing Christmas morning. There’s not many other places I can leave them where that’s still true.”

“And we’ll be happy to have you.” Hermione smiled. “I’ll have Harry prepare a special Christmas breakfast.”

“… And getting to treat myself to some of your husband’s cooking is just the cherry on top.” The woman nodded smartly, finishing her own drink, and glanced down at her watch. “I have to run. My patients won’t wait long past the end of my break.” Both women stood, and Marjorie glanced down towards her feet. “Before I go, I have one more favor to ask of you, Hermione.”

“Anything.”

She reached down towards the base of her chair and picked up a small shopping bag. Reaching inside, she produced two intricately-wrapped packages, lifting them from the bag and handing them over to her closest friend. “I know it’s last minute, but if you could place these under your tree before the morning I’d be ever so grateful. I’ll bring the rest of their gifts with me when I come in the morning, but these are special.”

Hermione looked down at the tags, emblazoned in the middle of the candy-striped red-and-white wrapping paper. “Happy Christmas, Jacob. From Santa,” read one, “Happy Christmas, Emily. From Santa,” read the other. Unbidden, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

“Absolutely. It would be my pleasure.”

Stepping around the table, the other woman reached for Hermione and embraced her, hugging her tight against her chest. “Thank you so much for everything. You have no idea how much this means to me, truly.”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah…” she trailed off, now deep in thought.

“I’ll bring the kids by tomorrow afternoon, and then I’ll see you again on Christmas morning!” She said brightly, finally letting go of Hermione and gathering up her purse and the remainder of her shopping bag. She hurried form the restaurant, leaving her erstwhile companion staring at the gifts.

Hermione’s journey to a suitable apparition spot passed in preoccupied silence. Without so much as a backwards glance, she disapparrated, reappearing again in the middle of her own bedroom. “Harry?” she called, setting the gifts gingerly onto her bedside table.

“In the kitchen!” his voice called up to her.

“I have something to tell you!” She called back, swiftly exiting the room and locking the door securely behind her.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Harry Potter quietly mounted the stairs, just after Lily’s and James’ bedtime on Christmas Eve. An advance edition of the next morning’s _Daily Prophet_ hovered just ahead of him, and he glanced at the images and headlines idly while his toothbrush swished gently of its own accord in and out of his mouth. Reaching the top of the staircase, he slowed to a crawl when he noticed a light on through the gap underneath James’ door. Harry furrowed his brow, and the toothbrush suddenly stopped while the newspaper slid gently to the floor. Slowly, he crept toward his son’s room and paused just outside the frame, where he was sure his shadow wouldn’t fall across the gap. Unsurprised, he heard hushed voices from inside.

“That’s what dad said, Lily. He never comes to our house because we’re wizards too, and he only brings presents to the muggle children. But this year is different! Jake and Emily are here, which means he _has_ to come to our house this year!”

“But… but…” Lily’s voice, sounding not altogether un-tired, filtered out through the door next. “How will he know Jake and Emmy are here?”

“How will he know? He knows everything, doesn’t he? Magic! Of course he’ll know, and this’ll be the only year he comes here! Now’s our chance!”

“Do we have to? Mama said we should go to bed…”

“Pffft. Mom must be in on it. Of course she and dad won’t want us staying up and seeing Santa. And that’s why we have to do it! This is our only chance!”

“But I’m _tired_.”

Harry could practically _hear_ the dismissive wave, just in his son’s hushed voice. “Too bad! You can’t sleep now, we have to wait for mom and dad to go to bed, then go to your room and get Jake and Emily so all four of us can surprise him. Then we’re sure to get presents this year! We can tell him he can’t leave unless he gives us some!”

Harry grimaced, grasping his face in his hand, toothbrush now floating forgotten beside him, toothpaste foam dripping to the floor. Silently, he crept past James’ door and towards his own, the beginnings of a plan swirling in his head. Immediately, the stern visage of Hermione, glowering at him, filled his mind’s eye. “Uh oh…” he whispered, to no one in particular.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

The house was silent.

The first floor was dark, save for the twinkling lights of the smartly-festooned Christmas tree and, if one were to look carefully, the images of those very same lights reflected in the wide eyes of four young children, huddled together behind the very same tree. It had been difficult for them, especially James, quite possibly the antsiest of all and certainly the most eager, to remain as silent and as hidden as they possibly could for what felt like several hours, but they had done it. Their eyes were locked on the fireplace, transfixed, waiting.

The first sign that something was afoot came in the form of a sound emanating from the other room, a sound that for all the world felt like the clunking of heavy boots against the kitchen tile. James furrowed his brow in confusion. “The kitchen? What’s he doing in there?” He whispered.

Beside him, Jacob, so often James’ partner in crime, pulled a branch of the tree down to see better. “I thought you said he was sure to come through this fireplace?”

“Well, Duh! That’s what he always does, isn’t it? Come on, we have to go catch him! He must’ve sneaked in somehow!”

Carefully, and as quietly as they could muster, the group of four slid out from behind the tree, tiptoed towards the entryway, crept down the hall, and approached the entrance to the kitchen. A light from inside beckoned them further, and they picked up the pace, as fast as their little legs could carry them while making minimal sound, dashing towards the open doorway, fully expecting to see Santa Claus himself, standing before their refrigerator looking to sneak some extra milk and cookies.

They all spilled into the kitchen. The fridge, instead, stood ajar, not a soul in sight. The four children huddled around it in confusion. “It must’ve been dad, getting hungry in the middle of the night again.” James whispered, crestfallen, “Come on, let’s get back before—“

Before James even got the chance to finish his sentence, the unmistakable sound of the Floo roaring to life and someone stepping out onto the creaky wooden floorboards in the living room reached their ears. James spun in place and could’ve sworn he saw the last dregs of a flash of green light emanating from down the hall. His eyes flew wide.

“Come on!” He cried, all pretense at keeping quiet and sneaking up on their quarry gone, “He’s here! Hurry, before he escapes!”

As one, the group dashed their way back down the hall, a see of flailing arms and jostling bodies. They tore into the living room and came skidding to a stop, all at once.

A figure loomed before them, easily dwarfing each of the four children present. They came to rest, breathless, staring as a group at the figure’s large black boots. Slowly, their eyes trained upwards; past golden shoe buckles; past the whisper of candy-striped stockings visible below the hems of rich, velvety red pants; past the tip of a long white beard that extended to just below the bottom edge of a large, rotund, red belly; and on upwards along the same thick, bushy beard to the edges of rosy red cheeks peeking out from beneath bright, bespectacled eyes. Their mouths hung open collectively in shock.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” The figure boomed, holding up a green-gloved hand before them, as if measuring them. “Children out of bed? On Christmas Eve?”

“I… I…” James stammered. Lily and Emily cowered behind him, Jacob standing off to his side, mouth agape. “I didn’t think you’d come.” The leader of their little troupe finally whispered.

“Didn’t think I’d come? Well, there are children here who are in need of presents, are there not?”

James nodded, stepping forward. “Yes… yes! There are, now! Yes!”

“Well…” The figure tapped a heavy finger against one rosy cheek, as if deep in thought. “I suppose there _were_ some children here who _were_ deserving of presents, but seeing as how they’re all awake now, I guess I’ll just be on my way.”

“No!” Jacob suddenly cried, almost jumping up from his place. “We’ll be good, Santa! We’ll be asleep in seconds, just watch!” Without another word, the elder muggle child turned tail and ran for the stairs. Emily and Lily, still silent through their whole ordeal, took off behind him, the trio practically tripping over each other to charge their way up the stairs.

The figure watched them as they raced one another, then settled a heavy gaze on the one remaining boy, still standing in the doorway. “Well? Aren’t you going to join your friends?”

“You’re really real, aren’t you?” James remained transfixed, rooted to his spot. “I thought my dad might be lying, but you’re really real.”

“As real as you want me to be, Sport.” Santa chuckled, a hearty, booming laugh that seemed to echo throughout the house.

“Did you bring us presents this year? I know you usually only bring them to mug—I mean, to kids like Jake and Emily, like Dad said, but this year I…”

“Maybe.” The pronouncement came with a shake of Santa’s head. “But what I said earlier still applies. No presents for any kids who are still awake at midnight on Christmas.”

James’ face lit up. “I knew you would bring me something.”

Santa kneelt down, fixing James with a searching stare. From behind very familiar glasses, a pair of piercingly familiar green eyes met chocolate-hued brown ones. James gasped. “But remember. I’m very good friends with your parents, and if you aren’t in bed and asleep very very soon, I’ll tell them to be sure not to give you any of _their_ presents, either.”

“I knew it…” James whispered, before another meaningful glance and a tilt of the head from the kneeling figure before him sent him scrambling back into the hallway and towards the staircase.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Harry Potter didn’t even bother looking up when he heard the door to the bedroom swing open once more. “You know I can’t read very well when you steal my glasses like that.”

“Reading? What reading were you going to do?” Hermione chuckled as she shut the door quietly behind her, kicking her boots off beside the doorway. As she did so, they seemed to shrink several sizes, the golden shoe buckles disappeared, and they landed in a heap, appearances returned to those of her well-worn snow boots.

“I read field reports from my aurors, sometimes. Need to be prepared for the day ahead.”

“There are no field reports on Christmas. You’re not even going into the office tomorrow morning.” Her gloves, too, shrank, and changed in color from green to their usual navy blue ad she removed them and dropped them to the floor. She tapped Harry’s glasses, still on her face, with one finger. “Besides, they complete the look.”

“Still, it was rude to steal them from the counter while I was in the shower. I could’ve tripped and fallen on the way back here.”

“Oh, please. You were fine.” She shook her head, removing the fake beard at the same time. As she did so, the rouge on her cheeks appeared to fade and what little of her tight up do of hair that remained visible beneath her overly-large Santa hat returned to brown from white. Harry raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Dyeing spells. I usually use them to fake applying makeup if I’m running really late.”

Harry nodded his approval. “You’d give Tonks a run for her money.”

“Hardly. I can’t exactly change my shape now, can I?”

“Then explain that, then.” He gestured absently at her full, rounded belly.

“Inflation charm, put it on my bathrobe when I transfigured it red.”

“And here I thought you were just suddenly pregnant again.” Harry grinned, certain he was going to earn another pillow upside the head later.

Hermione groaned, removing her very rapidly deflating robe and hanging it on the bed post. She lifted herself into bed beside him. “Even you, Harry Potter, with all your prowess, could not accomplish that particular feat in a scant three days,”

“A guy can dream, can’t he?”

She grimaced and shook her head. “Like I said. Incorrigible.”

“You realize I was going to do pretty much the same thing. I decided to as soon as when I overheard James’ little plan.”

“Yes, but I did it better.” She chuckled. As she spoke, the fake beard in her hand began to change, slowly revealing itself as a common bathroom washcloth. She tossed it aside. He stared at her.

“Ok, you’re right. I couldn’t have pulled that one off. Not as convincingly, at least.”

“And I suppose you would have stuffed a pillow underneath your robes, then, right?”

“No, I… I would’ve done the inflation charm, for sure.” He glanced furtively away.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you would’ve.”

“How did you find out, anyway?”

“I put them both to bed, remember? James was whispering to Lily about his plan almost as soon as I turned out the lights. He is not subtle when it comes to sneaking out at night…” She giggled softly, “Yet another trait that makes him definitively _your_ son.”

“Ha. Like you were any saint when we were at Hogwarts.” He paused. “Did you go through the Floo?”

“Yes.”

“Weren’t you worried Jacob and Emily would see you using floo powder?”

“No, I knew the old ‘rig the fridge door to hang ajar and fake a sound in the kitchen’ trick would get them.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling at his wife’s brilliance. “Well I guess you had everything all planned out. Now could you please give me back my glasses, now?” He whined, turning back to look at her. As he did so, her eyes met his, and after taking a moment to focus, his mouth fell open. “Those are mine! You used my eyes!”

Hermione laughed, picked up her wand, and tapped it against the glasses frame. As she did so, the illusion on the lenses disguising the true color of her eyes disappeared, and the green within them vanished. She took off the glasses and handed them back to her husband. He gaped at her.

“You stole my eyes! You let the kids see them, didn’t you? They’re going to think that was me down there!”

“Don’t be silly. I only let James see, only once Marjorie’s kids were back upstairs. I’m not about to ruin Christmas for one of my best friends’ children. I’m not a monster.”

“Still!” Harry shook his head, dumbfounded, finally replacing his glasses on his own face. “He’s going to know I lied to him!”

Hermione shrugged. “That’s what you get for lying, I guess. I told you you weren’t going to get out of trouble that easily.”

Try as he might, Harry couldn’t help but find himself impressed. “Well, if that’s what you think of as punishment, then turnabout is fair play.”

“Turnabout, what are you talk—“ Hermione’s question was silenced by the sudden crashing of Harry’s lips against hers. She groaned as he moved from her mouth to her chin and onward down toward her clavicle.

Harry grinned at the noises he began to illicit from her, and kissed her neck once more. “Merry Christmas, my sexy little Santa.”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was a pretty silly idea I came up with when pondering something fun to do for the advent celebration, and I hope you enjoyed it! It's also the first attempt I've made at writing anything comedy-lite in a long long time, so hopefully it isn't, just, deeply unfunny.


End file.
